Tag - divorce

20

Today would have been my 20th wedding anniversary. BvP texted me shortly after Max’s passing last summer and he’s doing very well.

Even though we’re apart longer than we were together, I can’t ignore the date. Twenty years was a long time ago.

The ride with you was worth the fall, my friend. I wish you the best of everything.

Happy birthday, BvP

I haven’t talked to him in years, and that’s okay, because these things happen. I couldn’t even tell you where he’s living.

But today is his birthday, and he’s been heavy on my mind the last few days. I don’t know why.

So I’ll put this out there: happy birthday, BvP. I hope that you are well and your life is authentic and bountiful.

Five

As of today, I’ve been divorced five years.

I didn’t realize it until I was driving to Mom’s tonight. And that’s good — the fact that I haven’t been dwelling on/dreading this date for 3 weeks is good.

I now speak of my married days like one would speak of things they did in high school or college. Or band camp. Fondly, with a touch of incredulity that it even happened. So I guess that means I’ve closed the cover on that installment of my life. That white satin cover with navy blue ribbons.

There are now people at work who never knew me married. The divorce comes up from time to time, mostly because there are still businesses out there that insist on using the “Burbermille” last name I used to wear like a gigantic awkward accordion around my neck.

And people will inevitably still say, “Well, at least you didn’t have children.” When they say that, a piece of my heart breaks off and dies forever, and I want to flip them the bird. Instead, I realize they’re trying to be comforting. So I weakly smile and nod and say, “mmm…yes…I guess you’re right.”

There are songs that still stop me in my tracks. But I’ve stopped feeling guilty about mourning an old relationship while thoroughly enjoying a new one. As I look back on the beautiful tapestry of my life, I see that all of the threads blend to create beautiful colors. Without the red blending into blue, I’d lack that gorgeous purple.

I did drive by the old house a few weeks back after a visit to Mom’s. A birdie told me it was on the market earlier this year. I wanted to see if it had been sold and if the big apple tree in the back still existed. The tree was gone, which didn’t surprise me, as the hundreds of crabapples on the ground were really annoying. And there was a Little Tykes playground in the yard, so somebody else was living there. That cut me to the bone and for a good five minutes I raged inside…that should have been a playground that *I* bought for *my* children that should have played in that yard.

Then I realized that I went through a different sliding door and was never meant to have children play in that yard. And that’s okay. It really is.

I haven’t spoken to BvP since last July, but as always I wish him the best, wherever he has landed.

The phrase “It gets better” has been appropriated by a cause much larger than my own piddly life. But if I had a Tardis, I’d go back to the woman staring at the dark and tell her that it gets better.

It gets much, much, better.

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